[spoiler]This is my entry for the DFA Writing Contest, which will end on the 13th. As a judge, my entry can’t win the contest, but I wanted to write one anyway. Here’s a link to the contest page for anyone interested in participating or reading the entries: https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/256177639/0/0 [/spoiler] Today I die. My feet drag along the floor behind me, clawed toes sliding listlessly over metal grating. Ether-thirst has left me too weak to walk. I have been without it for far too long. My body is bruised and broken. I let my head hang and watch my robes trailing after me. The banner of House Judgement, torn and tattered. I want to hold the symbol of my people, keep it from being soiled further, but I lack the strength. And arms. Whirlwind-scattered, I had once thought nothing more could be taken from the Eliksni. I had believed everything was already lost. I was wrong. The first thing taken from me was my arms. Many years ago, when this calendar of hate began, when the swords of the Eliksni turned on themselves like the days before the Edge Wars. Judgement tried to keep the peace, remind of the time before Whirlwind when law ruled. Judgement became focus of their hate. I was docked by Captain of a now-lost House, reduced to drekh. Now I have been docked of my remaining arms and am at the mercy of another Captain of another House. With two hands he pulls me alongside him through the cold halls of the Ketch. I weigh nothing; unlike me he is strong and large from abundant Ether. He has been my jailor during my time of imprisonment, watching over me only to ensure that I do not die until I am allowed to. Quietly, so quiet I can barely hear, he sings a song. Pre-Whirlwind, beautiful. I know it well. It is what I would sing to myself in the confines of my cell, awaiting my next beating from the Eliksni I once considered my kin. It reminds me of the time before our people fell to hate. The Captain sings much better than I could. This is a private concert, for me alone. No one else would hear a Captain sing, lest the Captain be seen as vulnerable and killed by those greedy for his power. I do not know if he sings to mock me or out of pity. I wish to raise my head, to ask him if he remembers the days of Judgement and peace, but I no longer can. I am just a broken shell, filled with the fragmented memories of Judgement. The singing stops. My feet bounce against the edges of steps as we ascend. Mechanized doors slide open with a hiss. I see only the floor, but I know where we are. I am carried across the room, up more steps. The Captain throws me to the floor like a sack of filth. I do not blame him, he must put on a show for the crew. This is the throne room of the Ketch, and I lay before the feet of its owner. The Baroness looks down on me with disgust. I was her advisor once, before I was her slave. I can still feel the pain of her docking my last pair of arms, when she twisted them, broke them, took her time cutting them off. It does not matter if I did anything wrong. I am of Judgement, and to her that is reason enough. Now she stands in Judgement of me. Her crew watches from behind displays and in the shadows at the edge of the room. I can feel their hate. They believe House Judgement is weak and cowardly. I am no coward, and Judgement is strongest. I face my death with honor. The Baroness draws her blades. There is no pleasure left for her. She has grown bored with me. Now is the time to discard her broken toy. I am too weak to move. All I can do is wait for my end. I wonder how many others died like this. There are so few left of my House now. I am one of the last. But House Judgement will survive. Of that I am sure. Judgement must survive. One day the Eliksni will be whole again, and Rain’s prophecy will be fulfilled. Judgement will be there to see it happen. The Baroness rolls me over with a foot. I stare into her eyes, unafraid. We all will be judged. My final Judgement is now, hers will come after. The blade comes down.